City Of Heroes: The Hands of The Clock
by Koncur
Summary: A powerful threat has been unleashed upon Paragon City! All of the powers of our Heroes will be put to the test to save the city from being devoured!
1. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 1

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock

* * *

Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.  
  
Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.

* * *

Chapter 1  
  
It was going to be a night to remember. Freakshow, a gang devoted to the use of cybernetic implants and causing general chaos, had decided it was time they moved into Boomtown. And the particular area they chose just happened to be Outcast territory. Now, of course, the Outcasts didn't appreciate this. It was bad enough they were constantly at war for territory with those half-witted, ugly, Trolls, and with the constant threat of one of those spandex clad Heroes dropping out of the sky and sending a bunch of their Brothers to the slammer. Now the Freakshow had decided to move in on them. This was too much Jose "Ringer" Sanchez. Ringer, who earned his nickname and position of Lieutenant for always being a ringleader and rallying up some Outcast to beat up some Trolls, knew a thing or two about nipping territory grabs in the bud. He knew those Freakshow guys were stronger than he and his men, but they were willing die for the Outcasts, and a large group with that mentality was a force to be reckoned with.  
  
Ringer and his men crept quietly into the ruined 3-story-now-2 office building, wanting to keep the element of surprise. He took one quick glance back outside at the gray and lifeless Baumton, or more commonly known as 'Boomtown'. Torched buildings, overturned cars, charred roads, crumbling overpasses, bent street signs, and twisted monorail tracks filled his field of vision along with the distant blue glow of the force field wall that enclosed Boomtown. To most, this would be a scene of Pseudo-post- apocalyptic horror. Few, if any civilians ever came here. The Heroes only used the place to train themselves, and would get out as soon as possible. To Ringer, this provided a sense of comfort. It was a reminder to him, and the rest of Paragon City, that the do-gooders didn't always win. Sometimes, they lost. Sometimes, they lost big. During the war against the Rikti, a malevolent race of aliens, many Heroes had died in this area, seared to the bones by the superior energy weapons the Rikti brandished, and had torched the area, sparing no one.  
  
Turning back to the dark doorway to the lifeless structure, Ringer mentally prepared himself for the fight ahead. He was going to win against these Freaks, or at least take out as many of them as he could before he went down. The dusty, crumbling walls; sprayed, melted or broken support beams and caved in ceilings quickly gave one the distinct impression that the building was ready to collapse at any time. Under normal circumstances, the building would have been condemned. In these circumstances, the whole district was condemned.  
  
They walked down the hallway, and turned a corner, and down that hall, dimly lit by a few beams of light coming through some cracks in a wall, were three smirking Freaks, waiting for them. The one in front had a mechanical arm that ended in a large sledgehammer head. The two standing behind him had replaced their arm with a robotic scythe.  
  
"So, you wimps finally arrive, huh?" said Sledgehammer.  
  
Ringer focused his power, and allowed some electricity to dance from fingertip to fingertip. "You only brought three?" he asked.  
  
The Freak scoffed. "Well, I was gonna come clean you guys out myself, but these two said they were bored so they tagged along." The other two chuckled.  
  
Ringer wasn't deterred by their taunts. He brought a dozen of some of his best boys, whom he had confidence in. Together, he felt they could handle these insane cyborgs. "I think we need to teach these guys who they're dealing with," he said to his fellow Outcasts, "anyone happen to know any pawn shops that buy busted up implants?" That got a roar of hoots and laughs from his men.  
  
Sledgehammer lifted his arm and began to charge forward, and his cronies followed. Ringer charged his fists with electricity, and his switchblade dug hard in his belt, as his boys drew their weapons and got ready. But for some reason, the Freaks seemed to be taking longer than they should have to have made it down the hallway. Now that he paid attention, their movements seemed to be slowing down, but not like an action movie going into bullet- time. This all became clearer as the cracks of light seemed to becoming steadily brighter, and Ringer could start to hear a strange chopping noise. With both legs in the air too long, instead of stepping, one of the Scythes tumbled to the ground. One beam of light landed on Sledgehammer's face, whose expression changed from mild confusion, to frustration, to suspicion, to more confusion, and fear as he slowed to a stop.  
  
Ringer was surprised by a feeling of pain in his side, and glanced down to where he kept his switchblade, which now seemed to be digging very hard into him.  
  
"Ringer!" One of his boys called out. He turned and found his men with weapons wavering furiously, scared and confused looks on their faces.  
  
"Don't be afraid!" He called to them. As strange as this situation was, he needed his men to be focused and calm to take advantage of this moment of weakness for the Freaks.  
  
"We're not!" One Outcast called back, "It's our weapons... they're trying to get out of our hands!" The light grew brighter, and the sound louder.  
  
Ringer was about to say something when a sharp pain in his side forced him back to his switchblade, which was now starting to open and was cutting his skin. He quickly pulled it out, and it sprung open. Startled, he loosened his grasp of it, and it flew out of his hand and stuck itself on the wall to his left. But it wasn't lodged into the wall with the blade, but instead had flattened itself against the wall, and stayed there like something was holding it in place. The rest of the Outcasts lost their grip on their weapons, and they too flew out of their hands and pinned themselves against the wall. The light grew so bright the previously dark corridor was now quite illuminated, and the sound was becoming extremely loud. It became a cacophony like a fleet of helicopters of many sizes was hovering overhead, armed with roaring buzz saws and a variety of clocks.  
  
A grunt of pain brought Ringer's attention back to the Freaks, whose mechanical arms were outstretched toward the wall the light was shining through. Each one had the look of extreme strain of their faces, as if they were fighting something. Slowly, then more rapidly, each one began to skid towards the wall, despite their efforts otherwise. One was pulled off his feet and hovered in the air for an instant, then was pulled right through the wall. The other two quickly followed, looking like someone being blown out the airlock in a sci-fi movie. From the sound of their distant screams, they were pulled very far into the air.  
  
Gusts of wind hammered the building, seeming to be the only thing not heading the direction of the light, but away from it.  
  
"Ringer!" One Outcast called, pointing towards the assortment of guns and blades that had formed a pile on the wall. They were pressing against the wall so hard that cracks had begun to form. The cracks spread, and wall gave in, the weapons 'falling' through it, and up outside somewhere.  
  
A strange metallic groan made Ringer spin around just in time to see an exposed support girder bend, and as it did, a chunk of concrete broke off the ceiling and fell on the head of one unprepared Outcast, killing him instantly.  
  
"GET OUT NOW!" Ringer bellowed. And they all began to run for the entrance, except one, who happened to have an oversized belt buckle, which he was now being pulled by towards the hole the Freaks had torn in the wall. Ringer dashed towards him. "Take it off now!"  
  
"I'm trying! I'm trying!" The gang member shouted in a panic, then began to cuss and repeat "Oh God, get it off, get it off!" The gang member's speed began to accelerate, and before Ringer could do anything, he was yanked off his feet and pulled out the hole.  
  
Thrashing in midair, being pulled at a high speed toward a blinding light in the sky with a deafening beating noise surrounding him and furious winds whipping at him, the poor gang member struggled to get the belt off. A pain began to run through his body, as he got closer to the light, as if something was ripping his circulatory system out. Finally, he undid the belt buckle, which shot upwards. But his moment of victory was too late. The belt buckle took the belt with it, and the force of it shooting off of his pants at that speed caused him to spin like a top. He lost his lunch, and the moment hit the ground, he lost his life.  
  
The Outcasts hurried through the building, which was now crumbling and falling apart at an alarming rate. Several hallways had caved in, forcing them to find alternate routes. Everywhere he went, girders and supports were bending and twisting. One broke free, and flew down a hallway, impaling two of his boys in the process and pulling them along, pinning them to a wall for a few moments before the wall crumbled and they were pulled through.  
  
Finally, they dashed out of the building, and saw above them an incredibly bright light that filled the sky. The noise was deafening. The winds were of such force that a gust could knock one off their feet. An earsplitting sound of tearing metal came from overhead, and they looked up in time to see a series of girders rip out of the building, and chucks of concrete rain down. Three outcasts who had run ahead of the group suddenly found themselves in the trajectory of the largest chunk, which quickly found itself on the ground, directly where they had been running. Ringer wanted to believe that they had dodged aside and were obscured by the clouds of dust that surrounded them, but he knew better.  
  
The ground shook, knocking Ringer and a few others off their feet. Suddenly, a fissure split the ground his men had been laying on, and they fell under. He dived forward to grab of their hands, but missed. Trying to see they were all right, if they had not fallen far, He started to look over the crack. But as he did, there was a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head as a small chunk hit him. The world began to melt into an oil painting and turned black. 


	2. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 2

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock

* * *

Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.  
  
Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.

* * *

Chapter 2  
  
Zuerst sailed through the air and landed on top of one of many skyscrapers that filled the area of Paragon City known as Steel Canyon. This was his favorite way of relaxing, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, covering great distances with a single jump. It was just so carefree, and it helped take his mind off the problems both in the city and his personal ones. Being a sentient android, he often faces problems with organic prejudice. He has yet to be doubted for his ability as a Hero, but is often put in the same category as the many remote-controlled or otherwise non-sentient androids in the city. Not to say that he is the only sentient android, and he was sure the others must have the same problems he has...  
  
Maybe I should start a Robot Support Group? He thought to himself, looking down from the breathtaking (if he had had breath to take) view of Steel Canyon from the high building. He would have an interesting story to tell the others, about how he owes his existence to crime. His creator, Dr. Hope, had been laughed out of scientific conferences when he had proposed building a sentient android that could learn and choose what to do with it's life, like any human. His supporters pulled their funding, and Hope became desperate for the monetary power to continue his dream...

* * *

Zuerst had started his life as a very small robot; his brain was almost completed, but Dr. Hope had only quickly put together a body for him. He would often follow Dr. Hope about his lab as he worked, asking childish questions. And as much like a child Zuerst had been, Dr. Hope had been his father. He did his best to teach Zuerst right from wrong, as well as how human society worked. He never told Zuerst about where his funding came from.  
  
Dr. Hope had finished the skeleton for Zuerst's new body, as well as the final upgrades for his brain. He loaded Zuerst into the Upgrade Chamber, a capsule filled with precise, robotic arms, sensors and other equipment that Dr. Hope would use to make adjustments or enhancements to Zuerst. He deactivated Zuerst, and then ran the procedure. When Zuerst woke up, he found himself in a much larger body that a casual observer would probably remark to resemble a Terminator. Then Zuerst noticed that his own mental capacity had been greatly enhanced. Questions that seemed impossible before he now understood how simple their answers were. He now began to ponder more philosophical things. In fact, he found that he now really enjoyed thinking, questioning, and wondering. He started to feel that maybe he should become a scientist or philosopher when he was complete. Sadly, this was not to be.  
  
Some time later, Zuerst was ready for a new upgrade, which would add an exo- plating to his head, lower arms, legs, and torso. After this, there would be only one more upgrade and he would be complete.  
  
After the upgrade was finished, Zuerst got out of the chamber, and came through the secret door that separated the lab and the upgrade chamber. He was immediately struck with horror. The entire lab had been trashed, experiments and equipment destroyed, computers riddled with bullet-holes, chairs overturned. He immediately began to search for Dr. Hope, calling out his name. He desperately began to search the lab, looking under smashed desks, calling out for Dr. Hope. Finally, he heard a groan, and followed it to one corner of the lab, where he found a streak of blood, leading into a pool of it under a lab table that had overturned and smashed. With his newfound immense strength, he lifted the normally heavy desk with one arm and tossed it away.  
  
Dr. Hope, his father, lay there, with bullets in him. He was bleeding profusely, and was very pale. Zuerst fell to his knees and leaned over Dr. Hope.  
  
"Father!" Zuerst exclaimed. Dr. Hope slowly opened his eyes, and seemed to be searching, as if he couldn't see Zuerst whose face was only a meter away, so Zuerst leaned in closer and said "It's me. It's okay."  
  
"Zuerst..." Dr. Hope barely managed to say, his eyes settling on the unexpressive metal face of the android. "I... I'm going to be going soon..." Hope wheezed out, and then coughed up blood.  
  
Zuerst didn't know what he meant for a second, and was about to ask where, when it donned on him. "N-No." Zuerst stammered, his artificial mind racing to catch up with what was happening with his emotions. "I just need to take you to the hospital, because organic life forms can heal, and when I bring you there, the medical doctors will heal you, just like you always could repair me. And then you'll be fine, right?"  
  
Dr. Hope seemed to shake for a moment. His face was getting paler. "Zu- Zuerst..." His breathing was labored, and his speech barely audible. "You must... the console... the code... it's Z1FW. You will understand. Goodbye, my... son." Dr. Hope's eyes closed, and his head slumped back. Zuerst's sensors detected his heart stopping, and the brain activity slow to a stop. If Zuerst had had the ability to cry, he would have. Instead, he just stayed kneeling over Dr. Hope for hours; silently wishing his sensors didn't work, so he could have at least hoped...  
  
Finally, he picked up the body of his father, and layed it down on a workbench, folding Hope's arms across his chest, and laying a sheet across his body, covering his face. Turning to the large circular console in the center of the room, he examined it, and found it surprisingly undamaged, compared to the rest of the room. He activated it, and entered the code Dr. Hope had given him.  
  
The large lens in the center of the console began to glow, and a holographic projection began to appear above the console. It flickered as the hologram projector focused, and the image became clear. It was Dr. Hope.  
  
"Zuerst," The hologram began, "If you are watching this recording, then I am dead. Murdered by an unknown, criminal organization. At this point, you would probably be wondering why they would select me as a target. You see, no one believed me when I told them I could create a sentient android. And those that did felt that I was trying to play God. So they cut my funding. I became desperate. A shadowy, unknown, organization came to my aid. They promised to rid me of my financial woes, if I were to build them an android, whose intelligence they would use to make it more powerful in battle. I accepted the money, but with the full intention of hiding my creation, you, from them, and letting you escape to make your own life.  
  
"But, it seems, they must have found out about my plans. And have undoubtedly murdered me, and have attempted to take you. If you met the ones who attacked, I doubt they could have hurt you. If you didn't, then I am glad you are safe. Either way, I need to explain your true power to you; even if you have used your powers you need to understand.  
  
"You see, knowing that they would try to take you, I have given you the ability to defend yourself. Your Exo-plating is made from an alloy I discovered. It is extremely powerful and near indestructible, yet, it has the ability to re-arrange it's atomic structure in accordance to your program. In essence, you can heal and evolve yourself to become more powerful without ever need a replacement part. Also, you have a structural integrity field generator, which, when activated, projects precise magnetic fields, effectively causing you to become almost impossible to damage. Finally, your back is equipped with a matter-energy storage device. I have loaded it with a special Battle Axe, made from completely indestructible alloys, which you can use if you are ever threatened. Because of your ability to evolve and better yourself, I'm sure new abilities will manifest themselves.  
  
"Zuerst, whatever you do, I want you to know I'm proud of you. I know that, although I am dead, I have completed my dream, and have completed my purpose in life. And so, my death was not in vain, as long as you live and stand for the side of good. No matter how. Goodbye Zuerst, and, good luck."  
  
The hologram shimmered and disappeared. Zuerst looked to the body of Dr. Hope, then reached back, and a handle materialized in his hand. He held the axe in front of him for a few moments.  
  
"No father, your death will not be in vain. I will see to it. I swear, from this day forth, to devote my life to fighting evil."

* * *

Zuerst was awoken from his stupor as his communication system chirped, and he received a transmission on his Super-Group's private com-channel.  
  
"Everyone! Come to Boomtown quick!" It was the voice of Jake Archer. "Something big has happened." 


	3. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 3

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock  
  
Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.  
  
Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.  
  
Zuerst approached the security checkpoint for Boomtown. There was actually a line up of Heroes waiting to get in. After the Rikti war, some areas of Paragon City had become so dangerous they had been labeled Hazard Zones or Trial Zones. Those areas were declared off-limits to most civilians, and Heroes needed a certain security level to enter. This was made possible by the enormous Force field Walls that were built during the war as a barrier against the alien onslaught. Ironically the technology only exists because it had been reverse-engineered from the Rikti.  
  
Normally getting through the security checkpoint was pretty painless. All you had to do was present your Hero ID card to confirm your security level, and go on through. But it seemed Jake had been right, something big was happening, and a line up of Heroes from all parts of town trying to get in like some kind of exclusive nightclub was a sure indication.  
  
As he started to turn towards the back of the line, a familiar voice called up from the front.  
  
"Hey Zuerst!" It was Gwendolen, AKA Ashen Fury, "I saved you a spot in the line! Come on!"  
  
Zuerst looked over towards the various annoyed looking costume clad superheroes that filled the lineup, figured none of them would attempt to pick a fight over this, and joined his fellow Super-Group member near the front of the line. Some questioned why she had named herself Ashen Fury, because in most cases she seemed very peaceful, to the point of not really knowing what was happening around her. But those who have seen her in combat would know her as the battle-crazed woman she could be.  
  
"So, Jake called for you too, eh?" She asked.  
  
"Well, he broadcasted his call over the Super-Group channel with no specific person mentioned..." He started to respond.  
  
"Hey, I'm just making conversation! So what do you think he wants? I hope it's not like that other time."  
  
"Somehow, I doubt this many people are here to see him snipe a bunch of cans off the roof of a skyscraper and have me jump up and stack them again."  
  
"Yeah," she chuckled, "But that was worth it when that one guy who happened to be passing by used his gravity power to make the cans to heavy to knock down."  
  
"That was amusing. Still, I think back, and even without the gravity power, those cans could probably have hurt someone had they been hit after a fall from a tall building like that."  
  
"Zuerst, we were in Boomtown! Who would be there to get hit, a Lost Headman? Frankly, I think that'd be pretty funny. There preaching and BANG! A can bounces off his TV-helmet! Would the other ones just burst out laughing? Do the Lost laugh? I gotta try that someday.  
  
"Anyway, you're too focused on worrying whether someone could get hurt when you could prevent it or take the damage yourself. You can't jump out in front of everything. Sometimes, things just happen. But then, that's why you're The Valiant Zuerst!"  
  
Zuerst chuckled at the title the news reports were now giving him, but then got very serious.  
  
"I may not be able to jump out in front of everything, but I'll always do what I can to make hurt no harm comes to innocents." He said.  
  
She gave him a half-smile. "I'd expect no less from you." Then she looked up ahead and found that they were next in line. "Hey! Finally!"  
  
The Hero ahead went through, and the security officer, who was looking a little rattled and a little exhausted, asked for their ID cards. They showed them, and he waved them in.  
  
As they stepped through the huge door, they were stuck by sight of Boomtown, a sight that would cause some to break down and cry. Zuerst must have been here a hundred times, and it still had an impact, moving from the glistening skyscrapers and business prosperity of Steel Canyon, to the dead, burned and hallowed out husks of buildings, roads and lives that was Boomtown.  
  
Except it was different this time. It was common to see groups of Heroes near the entrance, waiting to form into groups to take on the super-powered fiends that filled the zone. But this time, there were hundreds of Heroes as far as the eye could see, leaping, running and flying in various directions.  
  
As he entered the zone, Zuerst overheard a group of Heroes near the entrance talking.  
  
"...But, how do you destroy a whole block in Boomtown?"  
  
"Yeah, wasn't it destroyed to begin with?" "No, I meant without anyone noticing. There had to have been some Heroes out patrolling the area or something."  
  
"Maybe whatever did that got those Heroes too?"  
  
"Holy shit. What if Dianne were in there? She comes to Boomtown for missions sometimes... Oh man, she must have been in there, that's why she didn't return my calls..."  
  
The conversation faded from earshot as Zuerst and Ashen Fury moved further into Boomtown.  
  
"Well," Gwendolen asked, "Where to?"  
  
Zuerst looked up in the air "Want to just go in the direction most of those flyers are headed?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Ashen Fury took a moment to focus, and in a second was running so quickly that she would be able to easily overtake any speeding cars (had there been any on these desolate roads.) Zuerst fired his legs and effortless leaped atop a nearby building, then bounced off that and landed on another, then jumped from rooftop to rooftop, following the flocks of flying Heroes in the sky.  
  
As he approached whatever all the fuss was about, he could begin to see a large multi-colored mass of Heroes, heavily contrasting against the gray surroundings. As he got closer he could make out news vans.  
  
Finally, he landed on a rooftop overseeing the crowd (where about ten other Heroes were currently standing.)  
  
He stood there for a second, trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture before him. He recalled some of his memory files of past times he had been here, and found a match. That's when it hit him. An entire block was missing! Buildings, streets, sewers, everything, it was gone!  
  
A huge hole was there, as if it had all been scooped out. Huge chunks of concrete littered the inside of the hole as well as the surrounding area. Sewer water had flooded the inside of the hole now that it seems the pipes themselves are missing. (Which would also help to explain the only ones in the hole were the flying Heroes, who could stay above the who-knows-how- deep water.) Overhead, a news helicopter surveyed the scene, escorted by a group of Heroes. Along the edge of the hole, the Heroes had gathered and were discussing what could have done this. Among the countless Heroes were news reporters and police investigators, busily snapping photos and recording everything they could. This was probably their first time in Boomtown, seeing as it was normally dangerous for ever an unprepared Hero. But right now, with so many Heroes together, this was probably the safest place in the entire city.  
  
Suddenly, something flew overhead which immediately got a roar of gasps from the crowd. The figure slowed down and hovered in front of the crowd. It was The Statesman! On cue, the entire crowd of Heroes burst into applause and cheering. For many, The Statesman was the reason they had taken up a life of heroism. Having been the first Superhero to appear in Paragon City, it was the brave acts of The Statesman and later other Heroes who followed him that ridded the city of organized crime before the Second World War. He was the founder and leader of The Freedom Phalanx, an organization of Superheroes devoted to saving the world, training new Heroes, and making sure line between Superhero and vigilante isn't crossed.  
  
When the din died down, the Statesman began to speak.  
  
"Fellow Heroes, as you can see, something very strange and destructive has happened here. As of yet, no Super Villain has claimed to be responsible for this, nor do we have any leads as to what caused this. The paramount question is, can whatever happened here happen again, especially to the inhabited areas of the city? Unfortunately, without more information we can't know that. And I assure you, The Freedom Phalanx is working to try and solve this before anything else happens.  
  
"However, if we all concentrate our efforts on this, another Villain group may seize the opportunity and start something in another part of the city. And so, I ask that you Heroes continue your duties as normal. This will prevent any unrelated dangerous incidents. Take solace in knowing that The Freedom Phalanx is working with other Hero groups on this matter. We are working with Hero Corps on this investigation, and The Midnight Squad is currently working to determine whether this incident has a mystical origin. So go out there, and keep the city safe! Thank you."  
  
As the multitudes of Heroes cleared out, Zuerst just stood there. He never was one for premonitions and such, but somewhere deep inside him, he could sense a dark, morbid feeling of dread and anticipation. Something bigger was going to happen. 


	4. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 4

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock

* * *

Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.

* * *

Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to Stalker Gal and umjackd for the reviews! It really means a lot to me!

* * *

Soon my minions, we will emerge. Our numbers are bolstered, and we are the rightful. The city of death will be ours shortly. The city of steel will be the next to fall. We accumulate the vastness of potential to the harvest, with a combine of waves. We have sown, and have reaped. But The Reaper is only beginning his task. He may rest now. But he will be ready again...

Zuerst awoke from his regenerative mode with a start. He had experienced something, like a voice. But, it couldn't have been a dream; he was incapable of that. He decided to run a self-diagnostic...

Main:HopeBotdoctor Engage: Cognitive

Running Botdoctor.

System Scan: Cognitive Array.

Primary Matrix – 100%

Primary Processor – 100%

Secondary Processor – 97%

Primary Adjunct – 99%

Secondary Adjunct – 100%

Tertiary Adjunct – 97%

Warwick Capacitor – 100%

Modular Processor – 100%

Wave Band Capacitor/Shield – 62%

What-? Something disturbs us... 

WARNING: Unauthorized connection detected.

Attempting to close connection... FAILED.

Electromagnetic Capacitor/Shield – 100%

..._where... where..._

Wave Band Filter – 52%

There! We heard it again... percentage? A number? What is being evaluated by a hundred?

WARNING: Unauthorized connection detected.

Attempting to close connection... FAILED.

..._will not be shunted out! The culprit..._

Electromagnetic Filter – 100%

...why... what... We will search. We will find. Listen closely... 

Primary Knowledge Array – 100%

What is this? A sum of knowledge? We shall see... 

Secondary Knowledge Array – 100%

Here it is again... but different... 

Ethics Processors – 100%

Meaningless! 

Learning Co-Processors – 100%

...to better...?

Hope Data-Array – 100%

System Scan complete. Not all processes are running at optimal capacity. Optimizing...

It's fading... we continue to search... we... to... and... shall become... Reaper... forth and...The Defender... not fear the... dispatch the Catapult... our siege shall set-

Optimization complete. All processes functioning at 100%.

Zuerst got out of the Upgrade Chamber, which he used to regenerate and repair. He still lived at the laboratory he had been created in. He had long since cleaned it up. Removed the destroyed equipment. Very few of the computers and equipment still worked, but enough of it was left for him to be able to perform small upgrades on himself.

Now, all he could do was wonder what that voice was. Reviewing the logs in his mind, he noticed the Wave Band Capacitor/Shield and the Wave Band Filter were running at a surprisingly low level. This could be because of strain. They may have been overworked... like some Wave Band transmission had been assaulting him for so long that without maintenance, they started to be no longer able to block it, and he began to hear it in his mind.

In order for that to happen, the signal would have had to be focused on him, on his location. Or, it would have to be an extremely powerful signal permeating the air. What was being said in these transmissions referred to 'minions', as if it were being directed to a group. If that were the case, then the signal was not being focused on him! Something was generating a signal so powerful in every direction that it could have caused his protections to weaken. This was a cause for concern. He keyed up the Super Group comm. System.

"This is Zuerst. I'm calling an emergency meeting. I have something we need to talk about, and it might be related to have happened in Boomtown."

* * *

Jake Archer was patrolling around Boomtown, sticking to a raised platform; he was using his sniper rifle function of his all-purpose Assault Rifle to pick off Vahzilok zombies. They couldn't retaliate at this distance, or even know what hit them so he took his time aiming his shots, lining up perfectly before squeezing the trigger. When fighting people, one had to aim for spots that would greatly injure the enemy without actually killing them, so that they can be later given to the authorities. However, unless you're on a mission to get a live one, when fighting something like zombies or robots, you can do all the damage you want.

He had always been a crack shot with the sniper rifle, even back in his days with the U.S. Rangers. He had been top of his troop. Which was why a certain shadowy figure known only as Agent B approached him one day, offering him to join a special Elite Special Forces Division. Jake accepted.

Soon after joining, he received a special suit of armour. This armour was very high-tech, with the ability to respond to his movements in a way that steadied his arms and hands beyond normal human abilities, allowing him to make super-accurate shots. The armour had the ability to bend light around it, effectively making the user invisible. On top of this, the armour was also bulletproof and highly durable, resistant to many types of attacks. He was also given a special monocle, not like the type old rich people wear, but a certain device that had a HUD (Heads Up Display) that evaluated enemy strengths, and gave friend-or-foe indication. Finally, he was issued an Assault Rifle, capable of being heavily modified; multiple modes allow it to be used as a machine gun, a grenade launcher, a shotgun, or even a flamethrower. To this day Jake is still working on upgrading it with new modes.

After having completed around 50 missions with the group, Jake was on one mission to save an ambassador. While on the mission, he discovered that the ambassador was actually a link in a terrorist chain. Upon discovering this, he investigated further, and found irrefutable evidence that his group was linked to various common enemies of the United States, had made dealings with Saddam Hussein, and even got it's funding by selling arms to 3rd-world terrorist groups. Right there Jake Archer abandoned his mission and disappeared. The military listed him as MIA.

He quickly became a vigilante, and made his way to Paragon City. Once he was there, he signed up as a Hero.

And now, he had just finished off that group of Vahziloks. As he began to climb down from his perch, a flying hero buzzed by overhead, mumbling something along the lines of "Oh my god!"

"What's wrong?" he shouted after her.

She stopped in mid-air and spun around. "Go about 700 yards that way," pointing in a direction, "See for yourself." Then she flew off.

"700 yards?" Jake moaned out loud. It was times like these he cursed the fact that unlike many heroes, he had no powers or abilities that he could use to travel... except maybe riding the monorail that ran around town.

Slowly but surely, he headed in the direction the distraught heroine had pointed. After a while he was beginning to wonder if he missed whatever was of interest. The second he turned one corner he realized exactly what had upset her. A whole block was just... gone. He keyed up his Super Group communication system.

"Everyone! Come to Boomtown quick!" he announced, "Something big has happened." Already a group of staring Heroes had begun to form around the edges of the gargantuan hole in the ground.

Within an hour, the entire zone had become flooded with Heroes. Some were providing escorts for police and news crews. Others were overturning every rock and already overturned car looking for some kind of clues to shed light on the mystery. Many Heroes were gathered around the vast breach, debating about what could possibly have done this. With this many Heroes in one place, it must have been a bad day to be a villain hiding in Boomtown.

Jake had climbed on top of some rubble and found himself a nice vantage point. He pulled out his rifle and pressed a button on its side. With a click, he detached the sniper scope from the rifle and looked through it to see things zoomed in. Studying the hole more closely, it seems the sewers had been ripped out, and the pipes had spilled sewage out, flooding the hole. Assuming the hole only went as far as the sewers, it was filled about a third of the way up. Although it was possible it went deeper. Jake couldn't see through the murky water, if it even was water, as it took a rather greenish tone.

Jake noticed some news reporters and cops gagging at the scent of the exposed sewage. But the Heroes seemed largely unaffected. The civilians might attribute this super powers, but really, the Heroes were just used to the smell. So many villains make their layers in the sewers that it's very common to find a group of Heroes in the dank tunnels clearing out hordes of zombies or Lost. The life of a superhero isn't all glamour.

Floating like little islands in the stagnant water were large chunks of concrete and dirt, possibly remnants of the block that disappeared. He could also make out planks of wood and pieces of drywall of various sizes. It was starting to seem like something has physically scooped the area out, rather than something like teleportation, or opening a gigantic portal underneath the ground and dropping it all in. Jake decided he'd have to wait till the chaos dies down and some witnesses give the stories behind what happened here.

Almost taking his queue from the 'chaos dieing down' thought, The Statesman suddenly appeared on the scene. He flew above the largest group of heroes and quickly Heroes around the other areas of the pit flocked over to him. Jake preferred to stay in his sniper's perch and watch through his scope. He could only see Statesman's back but by the way he was gesturing and the way the crowd stared at him, he was probably giving a speech. Too bad Jake couldn't hear what was being said, but he would probably be able to get it from Zuerst later. Statesman's speeches were usually pretty invigorating. Or at least informative. After what must have been the end of the speech, the crowd scattered, most of them heading toward the exit of Boomtown. Statesman probably told them to get lost, but in a very official and polite fashion. Jake decided to follow suit and leave Boomtown.

A few hours later, Jake had finally decided to go off-duty. He was in his home, or Base of Operations, as he liked it to be called. Located in King's Row, it used to be a repair shop, until its owners went out of business and closed the place. They left many of their tools behind, which Jake used to make repairs on his suit and weapons.

Right now, he was lying back on his bed (which was just a couple mattresses piled up awkwardly) wearing a t-shirt and jeans, his suit lying across the worktable. On the desk next to his bed stood a half-filled bottle of scotch. He reached over, picked it up, and took a swig right from the bottle. It was too hot for a blanket, so he just lay there and closed his eyes.

Right as he was starting to dose off, the communication system on his suit across the room beeped loudly. A familiar voice played on the speakers:

"This is Zuerst. I'm calling an emergency meeting. I have something we need to talk about, and it might be related to have happened in Boomtown."

Reluctantly, Jake pulled himself out of bed and walked over to his suit. He needed to get it cleaned inside; the smell of his sweat was pretty bad. Fortunately, it was pretty airtight, so while wearing he was wearing the suit no one should smell anything.

Touching a button on the wrist of the suit, Jake spoke into the comm.

"This is Jake. Where do you wanna meet?"

"I was thinking here at my lab, but if that is inconvenient for anyone we could meet somewhere else."

"Your lab's fine. Are we just going to be talking or are we gonna have to fight something? I just need to know whether I need my suit." Zuerst said that he could leave the suit behind, and so Jake decided to. It would be kind of nice not having people recognizing the fact that he's a Hero and asking for help with their cat stuck in a tree or whatnot.

The cats are never stuck to begin with. They could have jumped out at any time; they just enjoyed watching their owner panic.

Jake put on his shoes and a coat, and headed out. He began to walk down to the Yellow Line monorail station. Man, that monorail was useful.


	5. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 5

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock

* * *

Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.

* * *

Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to Stalker Gal and Shea Fahlin for the reviews!

Also, I'd like to mention that if you happen to see anything I could be doing better, don't feel afraid to mention it. I welcome criticism, as long as it's done in a constructive manner.

* * *

Zuerst stood over looking a console. The dim light from the console was illuminating his 'face'. He didn't really have a face; instead, it was more a silver metal plate, with horizontal sensory visor that glowed faintly blue. The back of his head in contrast was black. Overlapping the two section was a curved cooling vent protruding from the top of his head. On each of his shoulders was an angled black metal shoulder pad, with a large screw-head on top.

His large chest was black, with a blue circuit design covering a good portion. On the center of his chest was a blue and black '1', signifying the meaning of his name. Emerging from underneath the shoulder pads, his upper arms were basically relatively thin robotic pistons and gears, a sign of incompleteness that lent him a slightly terminator look. His forearms, in contrast were very large and connected flowingly with his hands. Someone once told him his forearms made him look a bit like a certain blue video game robot. Zuerst decided to take it as a complement.

The armor plating on his legs seemed somewhat unfinished as well, revealing in some places the servos, gears, wires and pistons underneath. His legs followed the same blue-circuit-on-black pattern his torso did. His boots, or feet rather had a light-silver horizontal bar design being overlapped by dark-silver curves.

Zuerst looked around the room. The Heroes of his Super Group who could make it were Ashen Fury, The Healing Beacon, Assuress, The Unseen Duo, Arboretum, and Flash Sloane. Jake Archer had said he was coming, but still no sign of him. Zuerst's guess was that there must have been a series of crimes to stop on the way over.

"So, was this... a dream or something?" The Healing Beacon asked.

"No, I'm incapable of dreaming, at least in the sense of hallucinations while undergoing my regenerative cycle." Zuerst replied.

They were in Zuerst's lab, most of the super group had gathered there after Zuerst's call. Sitting atop a deactivated computer console were The Healing Beacon and her sister The Assuress. Both were the sole survivors of an ancient sisterhood of a house of healing, that had throughout all of history had taken injured men from the battlefields of Europe, only to return them later, much to their comrade's surprise, completely healed.

Unfortunately, one day the evil Circle Of Thorns figured out their hidden location, and attacked with desires of obtaining the secrets to their healing magic. The sisters were no match for the evil mages, and were almost completely decimated. Beacon and Assuress only survived because they were out in a nearby grove meditating. As it turned out, the source of the sisters' power was an ancient magical crystal that only empowered those who sided with good. The Circle decided that if they couldn't have its power, no one could, and destroyed it.

Beacon and Assuress returned only to discover their home destroyed and their sisters dead. They each found a piece of the crystal, and decided they would be vulnerable in their ancestral home, so they journeyed to Paragon City. Hoping this way, they'd be able to join and be protected by the ranks of Heroes there. They both wore versions of their ceremonial robes, modified to look more superhero-like.

Sitting on a stool, with her notepad in hand was Anna "Flash" Sloane. A fan of 1940's Detective movies, Flash always wanted to be an action reporter. When at the age of 15 she discovered her latent mutant psychic abilities, she worked hard to harness them so that they could be used as a valuable tool for information gathering. By the age of 19, her Exposés had earned her quite a few awards, as well as enemies. She noticed many of her stories often became the catalyst for Heroes shutting down some evil operation or saving some people. Always ending in news crews surrounding the Heroes. Then it occurred to her: she could do far more with her talents than merely discover enemies. She could help defeat them, and be right there when it happens (with her camera of course). So, she got registered to become a full-fledged Hero. She wore a tan colored old-style suit, topping her head with a fedora-style hat, giving her a very private-eye look.

She finished scribbling something down on her notepad and looked up. "Is that everything the voices said?"

"To my recollection, yes." Zuerst said, then he crossed his arms, "You aren't going to be including of this in your next article, are you?"

Flash grinned. "Nah. I don't do stories with no conclusion. I'll just have to wait till we nail whoever's behind it." She glanced down at her notepad and remembered a question. "So what could possibly have caused those safeguards to weaken?"

Zuerst seemed to pause for a moment, thinking. Of course, the android was often hard to read. With no face, sometimes-odd body language, and thoughts that she couldn't 'hear', it made it sometimes hard for Flash to figure him out. Still, all of this just intrigued her more, and she felt herself drawn to him all the more. Her curiosity would never let something go that easily.

"I'm not really sure," he said, "But whatever it is, it's powerful, a psychic signal that permeates the entire city."

"If it's a powerful psychic signal, then why hasn't Flash – or any of the telepath Heroes for that matter – heard it yet?" Ashen Fury asked, sitting in the office chair near the monitors. She said she sat there so that she could keep an eye on the TV news in case anything big happened, but really, she just wanted the most comfy place to sit.

"Well, I have been getting these headaches lately," Flash said, shrugging, "Nothing a Tylenol can't handle though."

A soft warbling noise like a boiling pot began to emanate from one side of the room. This noise always occurred as the Unseen Duo spoke. "We have been sensing something growing in power. This is a presence that we have always felt since coming to this city." The two spoke in perfect unison, sounding like a single voice, doubled. They wore hooded robes, with starburst and fire patterns on the pants they wore underneath. On their chests was an emblem of two masks, one red and one blue. This obviously represented them, as the only difference between them was that one's clothes were red and the other's blue. Other Heroes had come to distinguish them as Unseen Red and Unseen Blue.

From what Zuerst understood of their origin, they were the physical manifestation of some extra-dimensional entity whose consciousness had been split in half. Initially, the splitting had thrown them into insanity, and upon appearing in Paragon City, they began to randomly teleport around the city, attacking whatever was closest to them, be it a dog, a person, or even a mail box. A team of Heroes managed to subdue them, and sensing their insanity, called in for some help. A group of magical and telepathic Heroes managed to bring order and balance back to their minds (or was it just 'mind'? No one really knew.) To show their gratitude for what the Heroes did for them, they joined them in the fight to save Paragon.

"It seems that this increase in power," they continued, "occurred shortly after the incident in Baumton."

"That can't be a coincidence..." Assuress said, absent-mindedly dancing some healing energies around her fingers.

"Indeed." Zuerst agreed.

There was a chime, and the heavy metal doors to the room slid apart. In walked Jake Archer. "Sorry I'm late everyone. I uh... ran into some trouble out there. What'd I miss?"

Ashen Fury leaned her chair back, smirking. "In a nutshell, Zuerst was hearing voices. Turns out they seem to have something to do with some psychic signal, which got more powerful after what happened in Boomtown. But most importantly, I missed out on a really great opportunity in regard to the voices to make a joke about Zuerst forgetting to take his pills today, on account of his having no mouth." She shook her head as if some great tragedy had happened, then chuckled inwardly at her own jesting.

Zuerst held up a hand signaling silence before anyone could respond. He stood there for a moment, as if listening for something. "Something's wrong." He said. Just then, a tremor shivered through the room. "Something's very wrong."


	6. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 6

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock

* * *

Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.

* * *

Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks again to Shea Fahlin and Stalker Gal for the reviews!

* * *

"Behind you! Fool! Keep shooting! For Requiem's Sake!" Caiman, their Unteroffizier was shouting.

"There's too many of them, sir!" The Nacht Force named Jenkins called back in between thundering volleys of his chain gun on full-auto.

The chatter on their communication systems seemed that the battle wasn't going so great in the other parts of the 5th Column base either.

A Nacht Rifle took a blast of electricity right in the face. He let out a quick scream, and then slumped over the railing of the balcony he'd been firing from. The faceplate on his helmet had melted right off, and was stuck to the skin on his face in places, which was blistered and burned. Smoke curled up from his ears, nose and mouth. His eyes were just charred holes.

"Damnit! We've lost another sir!" Polaski, The Nacht Rocket standing next to the unfortunate sniper shouted. Then, getting back to the fight, he looked down the scope on his launcher. He spotted 3 of the things in the process of electrocuting some Nebels across the cavern. He may not have been able to save his brothers in arms, but he could avenge them. A quick check of his charge and he was ready. Polaski pulled the trigger and his launcher belched out an explosive rocket, which promptly blasted the invaders into more pieces than he cared to count. He didn't obtain the rank/duty of Nacht Rocket for nothing.

More screams and sounds of battle came over the comm.

"Oh god! Help me! Help Please! Oh god, HELP ME!"

"We're being overrun! Need reinforcements in sector-BZZT"

"Jesus Christ! They're in sector 7! I repeat-"

"Shit. Sir! I've got reports of contacts in the lower complex!" Their comm.-officer, Atkins, reported, crouching behind his console, "They breached at the other entrance!"

Caiman growled several expletives under his breath and tossed a grenade into the fray. "Do we have any orders?"

Atkins tapped a few commands onto the console, filtering out the sounds of gunfire and death-screams. "Sir! This area has been declared a lost cause. All units are to retreat to the inner sanctum and set up defenses there."

"Requiem! Get moving!" Caiman shouted, "Fall back to the inner sanctum!" Caiman hated this. The 5th Column did not fall back. They fought to the bloody end for their cause. The difference this time is that there was a high-ranking Raseri officer down in the inner sanctum inspecting the weapon this facility had been developing. Both needed to be protected.

They had prepared for the eventual Hero incursion. The facility was filled with anti-hero defenses, including a teleport disrupter grid so that when injured heroes attempted to use the city's emergency teleport grid to get to the hospital, they'd instead appear in the 5th Column brig. However, these were not Heroes. Heroes took prisoners for one thing. In fact, it was their priority. These invaders were killing without mercy. While it was an honor to die for their cause, a pointless death like being overtaken in a tidal wave of clinking, whirring destruction was not the kind the fascist soldiers dreamed of.

The 5th Column had had skirmishes with these enemies, but never before did they attack with such ferocity, strength, and numbers.

Jenkins fired another burst into the oncoming enemies, and then began backpedaling towards the exit to the sector. The group of enemies surged forward, but a sudden explosion sent them back, and in the moments Polaski bought with that, he leapt off the catwalk he was on and retreated with Jenkins. Atkins grabbed the grenade launcher he had taken off the corpse of a grenadier that had fallen earlier and followed. Caiman was the last to retreat, tossing another grenade into the fray and running.

They dashed through a security lockdown point. Once all his remaining men were through, he punched the control to seal it. The blast door closed, and muffled the sounds of screams and fighting in the sections beyond. Still, the walls echoed the sounds of battles ahead, and Caiman knew not to relax, even for a moment. He and his men continued their retreat, tearing up dirt as they ran.

5th Column bases were basically reinforced caves, with equipment, catwalks, and structural supports lining the rock and dirt. One of his men had once remarked that they remind him of an archeological excavation site he'd been to before joining. That man was probably just a smoldering corpse on the other side of the door, being picked at by the vultures that attacked, Caiman reminded himself. He'd be that way too if he didn't concentrate on commanding his team and regrouping in the inner sanctum.

As they ran through the corridor, Jenkins, who had been ahead of the rest, rounded a corner, stopped dead in his tracks and gasped. As Caiman came up behind him, he quickly released what caused the shock in his subordinate. They had happened upon a group of smoking corpses, and not just any corpses.

Jenkins stammered, "These guys were Raseri!" The sight of the Column's most elite troops as nothing more than burnt bodies and half-melted armor was a major hit to morale. Even Caiman felt his certainty that they would win this battle begin to falter.

Caiman clenched his fists, and repressed his newfound insecurity. He couldn't show any weakness. "C'mon you idiots, haven't you ever seen a couple KIAs before?" He gestured to the corpses. "Collect any still-functioning weapons and ammo and let's move." He knelt over and pried a scorched machine gun from the hands of one of the Raseri. Checking it over, it seemed like it would still work. Polaski crouched down and began searching another. Atkins slung the grenade launcher over his shoulder and found himself a pistol. Jenkins still stood there, staring. Caiman relieved the body of any ammo it carried and stood up. "Jenkins, do you have a problem? Didn't you understand what I just ordered?"

The shaken soldier snapped out of his stupor. "Um, sir, I was just, uh, covering you."

Caiman didn't say anything. While it was obvious the imbecile was just covering for his fear, the Unteroffizier realized that he had forgotten to assign anyone to cover them. This situation was getting to him more than he thought. He commanded them to follow him, and they continued down the corridor. He knew the entrance to the inner sanctum wasn't much further.

They stepped in a large room, a collapsed catwalk and other rubble filled the left side, blocking a couple doors. The floor of the room was littered with bodies (both of the 5th Column and their enemies), spent ammunition clips, and guns; the walls covered in bullet-holes and scorch-marks. The still-burning remains of tables and crates near a door illustrated that a makeshift barricade had been assembled, and later obliterated by the enemy forces.

They crept through the sea of bodies, anticipating an ambush. Polaski waved his launcher around the room, trying to figure out where the attack would come from.

Atkins leaned over one of the enemy bodies. "Maybe the defenders didn't lose completely... maybe they forced the enemy to regroup, and retreated to the inner sanctum?"

"Are you implying that the 5th Column is capable of losing, even partially?" Caiman asked, but without the force he intended. His morale was shaken. Atkins shook his head and continued to amble carefully through the mess.

A loud click made them stop in their tracks. Caiman ordered them to form up a semi-circle, and they trained their guns on the two accessible doors.

They heard another click, and then another, and then a whirring noise, which was accompanied by a rhythmic clanking. It took them a moment to realize that it was coming from behind them. They all spun around at the same time, and discovered one of the enemies in the process of standing up.

Jenkins was the first to fire, unloading high-powered barrage of his chain gun into the thing, perforating it in a second. On queue, enemies all around them in the room began to stand up.

"Fire! Fire!" Caiman yelled, taking aim with his machine gun and spewing forth a hail of bullets. Atkins quickly unloaded his pistol into one enemy, as Polaski fired a rocket and blew apart a small group of enemies. Jenkins was in the process of feeding another belt into his chain gun cannon.

Caiman turned around just in time to see the large pile of debris begin to move, and it suddenly became apparent that the debris was being used to camouflage a large group of enemies, as more poured out of the doors behind. Caiman tried to fire, but his machine gun was out of ammo. The enemies charged forward as Caiman struggled to reload the weapon. There was a loud POOMF, and a grenade sailed over his head, and detonated right the center of the swarm, blowing debris and bits of the enemies away. Caiman turned to see Atkins, his grenade launcher out, smoke billowing from the barrel.

"Get down sir!" Atkins said. Caiman complied, and comm.-officer launcher lobbed another grenade into the fray, right as Polaski fired a rocket. The combined explosion made short work of whatever was in that part of the room. But still more of the hateful things surged out of the doors, moving to replace the ones that were just destroyed. Polaski primed another rocket, and took aim. But before he had a chance to squeeze the trigger, one of the enemies fired a bolt of lighting at him. It impacted against his chest. A section of his armor instantaneously glowed a bright red and melted. Electricity surged through his body, causing him to convulse. Polaski was helpless as electricity arced and danced along his arms, through his fingers, and into the launcher and the still-active rocket.

Instantly, Polaski exploded in a shower of blood, dirt and body parts.

The concussion threw Caiman back, and he was left momentarily disoriented. When he managed to collect him self and get up, he found that Polaski was nowhere to be seen. Atkins was in the process of getting up, firing his pistol at the same time, his depleted grenade launcher lying on the ground. Jenkins was on his back, his legs blown off in the explosion. Still, he clutched his chain gun and fired wildly into the oncoming horde.

"Go! Run!" Jenkins yelled over the roar of his weapon. "Get to the inner sanctum. I'll hold them off!"

Caiman signaled Atkins to follow him and took off running, bolts of electricity missing him by centimeters. They ran through the hall to the sanctum, and Caiman sealed the door behind them. They dashed through several corridors, and finally found themselves in front of the huge, meter-thick door to the inner sanctum.

Caiman ran to the door control and activated the intercom. "This is Lt. Caiman reporting as ordered. Request permission to enter."

The huge door opened a crack, just enough for Caiman and Atkins to slip in, and closed behind them. They were in a huge control room. On the far wall from the door there was a u-shaped catwalk/balcony that connected 3 walls. All along the balcony were snipers, grenadiers and rocket launchers. In staggered firing positions on the ground floor were dozens of various kinds of 5th Column. All of them had their weapons firmly trained on the door, the only way into the sanctum. Someone on the balcony called down in a commanding voice "Lt. Caiman, get up now!"

Caiman wasted no time in climbing up the ladder and dashing over to the dangerous Raseri Unteroffizier. Atkins followed.

Caiman snapped a crisp salute to his superior. "Nacht Unteroffizer Caiman reporting!"

Behind the superior officer, Caiman noticed a strange device lying on a table. It had a reinforced glass casing with control interfaces along the bottom. Most intriguingly, inside the glass case was a glowing, multi-colored orb with metal rings rotating around it, which defied gravity and hovered inside its case. Caiman instantly knew what this was. It was Project Moonstone: a powerful device that could create and manipulate gravity. Hero Corps had created it, in the hopes of using it to create an army of gravity-controlling Heroes, but the 5th Column had stolen it with plans of harnessing it as a weapon of mass destruction. Using it, they could force the city, country, or even the world to bow down to their fascist ideals.

The Raseri officer didn't return Caiman's salute. "Lieutenant, do you have any intelligence on the invading force?"

"No, sir. I've never seen the Clockwork attack with this kind of strength, ferocity or numbers. They must want Project Moonstone. And bad." Caiman replied.

The Raseri turned away from Caiman, walked to the railing of the balcony and stared towards the door.

They waited for what seemed like hours for the eventual attack, but there were no Clockwork spied on the security camera outside the door. The only thing that was happening was a soft rumbling that seemed to be getting slowly louder, and louder it got, the more the room shook.

Atkins leaned over to Caiman "Um, sir?"

"Yes?" Caiman growled.

"Weren't they in the process of excavating for some new sectors?"

It took a moment for what that meant to dawn on Caiman.

"Oh shit. Sir!" Caiman called to the Raseri, who turned with an air of annoyance in his stance. "Excavation work was being done before the attack commenced! There was unguarded equipment left there."

The rumbling grew stronger. Motes of dust began to rise from the dirt floor.

The Raseri stood there, and his imposing calm was broken by a string of expletives. "They're going to bypass the door with the drills!"

On queue, a series of cracks appeared on the floor under the soldiers. Before anyone could react, the ground caved in and soldiers that had been standing on it tumbled in. Immediately, there was a series of ear-slipping thunder claps, and enormous arcs of electricity burst out of the hole and into anyone that remained.


	7. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 7

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock

* * *

Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.

* * *

Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.

* * *

Author's Comments: Thanks to Aussie Cavalier and Stalking Pyro (AKA Stalker Gal) for the reviews! A special thanks goes to Stalking Pyro, for if it weren't for her constant support, I probably would have gotten bored and given up on the story the moment the first shiny thing met my eye.

Warning: It occurs to me that some things coming up in this story could be considered spoilers for the 'Mind Of A King' story arc in the game. So, if you don't know the secret behind the Clockwork, and want to find out for yourself, perhaps you should save this story for later. (Note that you can get the story arc somewhere in the teens. If you're mid-level or higher, and you don't already know the secret, you'll need to do it on a different character.)

* * *

Zuerst stepped into the large, domed room. On the circular, reflectively waxed floor before him was written "Paragon City" and "Birthplace of Tomorrow". Between the roman columns on the room's marble walls held alcoves, in each of which was a statue in honor of a great Hero, the plaques before them telling stories of great bravery, heroism, and self-sacrifice, saving the world against impossible odds.

Zuerst started to walk out into the room, then stopped short. Being made completely of metal made him rather heavy. What if he scuffed up – or worse, left a trail of footprint-shaped cracks along – the fancy polished floor? That would certainly look bad on his first day. He needed to make a good impression if he was going to join up and get his Hero License. The door creaked behind him.

"Excuse me." A booming voice said. Zuerst turned and saw someone wearing an 8-foot tall armored combat suit ducking through the doorway. Zuerst stepped aside and the wearer strolled casually in and across the polished surface. The thing must have weighed a ton, and didn't leave a mark. Gingerly, Zuerst took a few steps forward, and was surprised by the resistance the floor gave. From his calculations, the floor, although it looked fancy, could probably have a stack of 18-wheeler trucks piled on it and only need a quick buffing.

In fact, on closer inspection, the entire building seemed to more than it appeared. He surmised that it might have been built for use as a bomb shelter in an emergency. The Rikti War obviously still stung.

Zuerst walked across the large room. Ahead, in embossed gold the words "Paragon City Hall" Hung over a desk labeled "Information". He approached the desk.

The woman working at her computer looked up for a moment, then back to her screen. "One moment please." She finished up whatever it was she was doing (Zuerst noticed playing cards on a green backdrop reflected in her glasses) and looked back up. "Welcome to Paragon City Hall, how can I help you?" She asked.

"Hi, can you tell me where to go to register to become a Hero?" Zuerst asked.

"Hmm… let me guess, Technology, right?"

Zuerst nodded.

"Just go down that hall," she pointed off to his right "and go to the Department of Advanced Technological Application. DATA. It's the second door on your right." She immediately turned her attention back to her monitor.

He turned towards the hallway she indicated. Over the large door was labeled "New Hero Assignment" in large gold letters. He stepped through the door, was greeted by the sight of two more alcoves containing statues, and traveled down some stairs to his left. The stairs opened up into a wide hallway with an arched ceiling.

Five large doors dominated the room, above each was gold lettering denoting the branch the door led to. On his left were Enhanced Logistics for Insight and Tactical Excellence (ELITE) and Scientific Experimentation, Research and Application to Paranormal Humans (SERAPH). Directly ahead of him at the end of the hall way was the Genetic Investigation and Facilitation Team (GIFT). On his right were the Modern Arcane Guild of Investigation (MAGI) and his destination, the Department of Advanced Technological Application (DATA).

He stepped into the large door, and entered a smaller room filled with computer servers and packing crates. Through a window, he could see what looked to be a high-tech research facility. Directly in front of him was a man who was in the process of pacing around, talking into a cell phone. When the man noticed the android, he held up his index finger to indicate for Zuerst to wait moment.

"…What? An office?" The man said into his cell. "There's no Princes with them, though, right? All right. Yeah. I think one just walked through the door. Yeah, I'll send a Hero immediately." He hung up the phone and looked to Zuerst. "Please tell me you're here for a mission."

"No. Well, yes." Zuerst said. "I need to get a Hero license first though."

The man's face fell slightly. "Alright then, we better get you registered quick then. Those Clockwork aren't going to wait for you. I'm Rick Davies by the way."

"Greetings. I'm Zuerst."

The man walked over to his desk. "Paragon needs more Technology Heroes. Let's just hope you're up to the task, Zuerst."

* * *

He swung his axe with such force that when it hit, the smaller clanking robot broke into pieces, which bounced off a wall and onto the floor. 

A lance of lightning hit him in the back, but the special metals that constituted his outer armor absorbed most of it, and his auto-regenerative systems were already at work repairing the damage. He had almost forgotten about the other one.

He spun around and faced the little bugger. The 3-foot tall clicking automaton was made of scavenged, rusted metals and looked like its creator was either drunk or insane. Its tapered cylindrical head sported green glowing holes for eyes, with strips of metal welded on to represent eyebrows. Its 'mouth' was a cage door similar to an old coal stove. Its torso was basically a couple rings linked with a metal spine, giving it the appearance of a rib cage. Its large hands and feet were disproportionate to its thin arms and legs. The most notable feature of the little metal menace was the huge rotating key sticking out of its back, obviously placed there to make it look like some kind of windup toy, and earning the robots the name "The Clockwork" (along with the whirring and clinking of gears that accompanies each one). This particular model was known as a Sprocket.

Zuerst swung his axe underhandedly, using it almost like a golf club. The weapon impacted against the Sprocket's pelvis, crushing the poorly made metals. It's legs broke off, and it fell onto it's back, the key's rotation causing the small robot to 'walk' in little circles as it flailed it's arms. It managed to flip itself onto its belly, and was about charge up an electric blast to throw at Zuerst when he brought the axe down on it's back in a powerful chop that shattered metal. The clicking of the gears stopped and the rusted pile of scrap fell silent. He didn't feel bad about destroying the rusted little automatons: they weren't sentient. For one thing, they never talked.

The woman who had been hiding under a nearby desk poked her head out. "Is it safe to come out?" She asked.

Zuerst swept the sharp, broken metal shards aside with his axe. "Yes, but head straight back to the entrance. I haven't cleared out the rest of the building, so there's a good chance it's still dangerous elsewhere."

The woman nodded. "Before I go, I should warn you. They're doing something weird on the third floor, something I've never seen the Clockwork do before. I'm not sure what it was, but I saw them lugging something with them up into the elevator. I've been hearing strange noises since."

"Thanks for the tip ma'am. Now you should get to safety, outside the building."

The woman cautiously dashed out of the room, down a couple halls, and out the main door of the building.

Zuerst continued on through the building, and it seemed like with every corner he turned, every room he entered, there were more of the little contraptions. Finally, he made it to an elevator. He stepped in, and was tempted to hit the button for the third floor, but decided against it. He should systematically take care of the Clockwork, going from the bottom floor to the top. It may take a little longer to learn of what the mechanical menaces were up to, but it would be more thorough, and would reduce the chance of the Clockwork slipping past him and escaping out the front door.

He tapped the button for the second. The doors closed, and Zuerst felt the elevator carry him up. He waited somewhat impatiently for it to reach its destination, this was his first mission and he was feeling anxious. If he blew it now, he could probably kiss a successful career in Heroing goodbye. When the doors finally slid apart, Zuerst dashed out quickly, anticipating an ambush. Nothing. The elevator room, and the hallway beyond, was clear of the rusted robots.

Axe in hand, Zuerst continued forward and nearly overlooked a small meeting room. He stepped inside, and caught three Clockwork in the process of disassembling chairs. There was a pile of metal chair legs in the corner of the room.

The Clockwork looked up in surprise, and then quickly began to charge their fists with electricity. One jumped up onto the table and faced Zuerst. He immediately could tell that this was no Sprocket. While it was about the same height, and fairly similar in appearance, there were several key differences. For one, it was made from better metals than it's lesser brethren, allowing it to take more damage. Its shoulders were adorned with large vertical gears. It's hands sparked and electricity arced from finger to finger (more so than the sprockets).

It must have been a Knight, the lieutenants of the Clockwork army. That meant there were two possibilities, it was either a Cannon Knight, devoted to hurling long-range blasts of electricity, or a Tesla Knight, a Clockwork capable of trapping it's enemies in 'cages' made entirely of electricity. Either way, it would need to be dealt with first.

Zuerst lashed out with his axe and hit the smaller robot with such force that he sent it flying, and upon impact it made a large hole in the drywall. After bouncing off and falling face-first onto the ground, the Knight merely stood up and charged electricity into its fists. With a sudden jerk, it held its hands out at Zuerst and twin streams of energy shot out at him. At the last instant, the electricity fanned out, only small amounts leaving the flow to prick his armor. The energy spread itself around Zuerst until it formed a bubble. Once it stabilized, the shell of electricity around him began to shower him with thousands of tiny sparks. The electromagnetic radiation began to interfere with his systems, and paralyzed him. The structural integrity field that reinforced his armor shut down as well, leaving him somewhat vulnerable.

The two Sprockets began to dance around Zuerst, waving their arms, mocking him in his predicament. The Tesla Knight climbed back onto the table and looked Zuerst right in the face.

"His Majesty, The Clockwork King, shall be pleased." It said. When it spoke, it had a muffled quality, like covering a computer speaker with a metal bucket. The sound seemed to come from somewhere inside the robot, but at the same seemed to originate elsewhere. For reasons he couldn't fathom, Zuerst was reminded of a child playing with his action figures, saying the dialogue aloud for the plastic characters in his little pretend world. The Knight nodded to the Sprockets, who stopped their dancing and took positions behind Zuerst. "What quality metals you're made of. Our King will be very pleased indeed."


	8. Hands of The Clock: Chapter 8

City of Heroes: Hands of The Clock

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Rating (whole story): PG-13, for fantasy violence, deaths, mild language and use of a fictional drug.

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Copyright Issues: City of Heroes is © 2002 NCsoft Corporation and Cryptic Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.  
City of Heroes is a trademark or registered trademark of NCsoft Corporation.

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Author's Comments: There really seems to a large amount of time between chapters with me, eh? In case there's actually anyone anticipating my next chapters, I apologize for that. And so, here is chapter 8! I'd like to thank Stalking Pyro, umjackd, cyberknight, Captain Kobold, and Slovak for their reviews!

* * *

"12 bottles of beer on the wall…" 

He was tired of singing the song, but helped him stay awake. He knew that if he let himself slip into sweet unconsciousness, he'd be done for; he was sure he had a concussion.

"Take one down, pass it around…"

Jose "Ringer" Sanchez had lost feeling in his legs. He couldn't see them; he couldn't even turn his head. He was completely buried under dirt and concrete. He was just lucky the mass above him was being supported by something other than his body, and that air was still coming in from somewhere. Unfortunately, it brought an awful stench that made him permanently nauseous.

"11 bottles of beer on the wall…"

He remembered feeling cold, slimy water running against his right hand, but that had long since gone numb. He could still hear the water though, gurgling as it rushed through or past his stone prison.

"Take one down, pass it around…"

Despite the fact that he laboriously kept his eyes open, he couldn't see anything: It was too dark. Still, was probably for the best; he could only imagine what shape his body was in.

"10 bottles of beer on the wall…"

He'd discovered a while ago that he could move his left arm, and there was some space around it. He had considered using it to see if he could dig out the rocks that kept his head pinned, and finally get the painful kink out of his neck, but decided against it. There was a large shard of rock that was lightly pressing against his throat, and didn't want to disturb whatever was holding it in place.

"Take one-"

Ringer stopped singing when he heard and then felt a rumble. Then he could hear the rocks around him grinding against each other. That tremor had destabilized them! Now he could feel shifting around, smaller rocks passing between the larger ones, causing those ones to move and push against each other. It was like when you shake a bag of chips to get the big ones on top. Something landed on and crushed his left hand, causing him to cry out in pain. He could feel dust or sand or some sediment pouring over his left arm, pinning it and filling what little space he had left. The shard above his throat his throat pressed in hard. It became difficult to breathe; he felt like he was being strangled. He knew it was only a matter of time before enough force caused the edged rock to cut through his skin and into arteries.

The larger rock pinning his head shifted, and dust and dirt poured all over his face, up his nose and in mouth.

In one was last act of defiance against his earthen oppressors, Ringer built up all the electricity he could, and discharged it into his surroundings. There was a loud explosion that seemed to be right next to him, yet at the same time very distant. His body felt weightless, and then numb. He felt panic for a moment, but then his world faded off.

* * *

Zuerst could barely believe it. It had happened again. A huge chunk of the Smithton district was gone. An area just north of Independence Port, it was an area rich in industry. Steel-mills and other metal refineries filled the land: Because of the location, many refineries were built here so that the materials could easily be transported for export in Independence Port. 

But right now, Zuerst and hundreds of other Heroes were standing at the edge of an enormous pit, just like the one in Boomtown, except that this time, it wasn't just an empty no man's land.

"So Z, I'm not sure I want to hear this, but what's the estimate?" Ashen Fury asked.

Zuerst ran the calculations through his mind. He couldn't help but notice a slight lag in the speed of his thoughts. The bus of the links between his cognitive core and his secondary processors seemed to be the problem. He'd have to perform a diagnostic later.

"Given that rumble we felt occurred in late evening, and assuming that rumble was caused by what happened here, then it was late evening when this happened and most of the people who work in those plants were probably at home." Zuerst said, pausing a moment before continuing with the bad news portion of his evaluation. "Save for the janitorial staff and security guards. However, these plants may have had late-shifts, and in that case, they would have been fully staffed. I would venture that anywhere from 50-300 people were inside this area when it happened."

Ashen Fury wordlessly turned away from the scene before her, and for a moment, Zuerst saw a deep rage building within her. The kind she normally reserved for the heat of battle. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. Around them, other Heroes who had overheard his grim estimate were having similarly powerful reactions, ranging from deep sadness to boiling anger. He knew what has going through their minds, because it was going through his as well. If only they had been there, if only through some cosmic luck they had happened to patrol by when it happened, maybe they could have done something to help. Even if they could not have stopped it, then at least maybe they could have ensured the safety of the civilians.

Flash Sloane hadn't even touched the camera around her neck, which she normally would have had out and busily snapping shots of this big story in the making. "Zuerst… do you think they made it out?" she asked, but even as she did she felt like she was just grasping at a false hope. Before he could reply, she let herself slip into question mode "And what about Heroes? Was anyone around to try and prevent this? Are they still around to comment? Or what about witnesses? Someone must've seen this..." She trailed off.

Somewhere behind Zuerst, someone's cell phone began to ring. The hero answered the call and a moment later turned to his teammates. "That was one of my contacts. She says that the Sky Raiders might be planning to bomb a building in Steel Canyon. We should probably get going." One by one, his team tore their gaze from the awful sight and began to make their way through the crowd.

Zuerst was reminded of Statesman's speech, and decided it would be best to leave whatever happened here to higher-up heroes and the more powerful Super Groups. As much as he wanted to help, instead of getting in the way here, he should probably continue the pursuit of justice elsewhere. After all, he didn't have any connection to what was happening.

As he charged his legs to jump over the crowd and leave the area, he noticed that peculiar lag in processing. He decided that he should go get that diagnostic done.

* * *

Even though he had spent his entire life here, Jim Maynard absolutely hated life in Paragon City. It just wasn't safe unless you wore spandex and blew things up for a living. Just the other day he was being robbed by a group of super-powered fanatics. Fortunately, he had managed to stall just long enough for a Hero to arrive and blast the villains to bits. If it were an isolated incident, that'd be one thing, but the constant threat of something happening just on the way to work was just too much stress. The crime in the city was awful. Of course, every major city had their share of super villains, but this was just ridiculous. 

And now, it was time to move. He had just finished packing his suitcases, and was now ready to leave his apartment behind forever. Lugging the first two suitcases with him, Jim approached the elevator, and hit the button for the parking level. He'd only have to make a few trips back and forth from his apartment to his car, and by the end of the day, he'd be on the highway, far, far away. He'd be leaving behind all those bad memories and failed jobs.

For a short time he had worked in Terra Volta, but knew if he wanted to keep his life he had to get out of there. Every day he had been escorted to work by a squad of Heroes because it was simply too dangerous for him to drive there alone. Being the sole power source of the city, the Terra Volta reactor was frequently under attack by various villain groups. So much so, that the Terra Volta neighborhood had been declared a Trial Zone: a term used for an area that under usual circumstances would be completely sealed off to civilians, and Heroes would only enter in groups.

It was far too stressful for Jim. So, he had decided to put his expertise to work in another area. Hero Corps had recruited him to work alongside some pretty big names on what they called "Project Moonstone". It had been going great; all of the tests were coming back perfect. The device could warp space and time, creating powerful gravity fields. Not only could this become a source of power for the city, so that all of the proverbial eggs wouldn't be in Terra Volta's one basket, but it could be used to create new Hero Corps heroes, to further protect the city.

But after what had happened to him a week or so before, it had all gone downhill. And now, all he wanted was to get as far away from this city as he could. Maybe somewhere on the west coast.

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out into the underground parking garage. He turned a corner, and came up to his parking spot, and then stopped short.

"I can't escape!" In defeat, he lost his grip on the suitcases and they loudly hit the floor.

Where his car should have been, there was just a pile of tires, car seats, the dashboard and the floor mats.


End file.
